


Firewhiskey Fever

by PTwritesmore



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cunnilingus, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Firewhiskey (Harry Potter), Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, POV Hermione Granger, PWP, Pining Draco Malfoy, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:47:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29364969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PTwritesmore/pseuds/PTwritesmore
Summary: Hermione had a plan: have a few drinks, avoid her pushy ginger friend’s attempts at setting her up, and end the night eating ice cream in her fuzzy pajamas. But between a chance encounter with an old rival and a few glasses of firewhiskey, that plan was quickly out the window. Dramione one shot for Valentine’s Day!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 43
Kudos: 261
Collections: Dramione one shots





	Firewhiskey Fever

**Author's Note:**

> Happy early Valentine's Day my fellow Dramione stans! Just a quick note for those subscribed to me that this is different from my other fics - I've been trying to challenge myself to get out of my comfort zone as a writer and smut is something I've never done before. Huge thanks to the HP Fanfic Writers' Guild NSFW Workshop, hslades, and Canttouchthis for the guidance and support! This fandom is full of lovely people/wonderful writers who just want to build others up :) Anyway....enjoy this smutty one shot for the holiday!

“Come on, your life is so boring,” Ginny Weasley whined, slamming her drink down on the small table between them. “Indulge an old married witch.” Though the buzz of the Beetle Club at happy hour made it difficult to hear her plea, it still earned an eye roll from Hermione Granger.

“My life is not boring!” Hermione huffed, glaring at her best friend. “Remember who I am? Teenage war heroine, youngest assistant department head in the history of the Ministry?” 

“Fine, fine, you’re not boring,” Ginny amended. “Only your love life is boring!” 

“Well, we can’t all have found our soulmate in school,” Hermione said. “The pool is too limited, and I am just not interested in the boys who knew me as Hermione Granger, insufferable swot.”

“Most of the wizarding world would argue for finding love with old classmates,” Ginny muttered before taking a sip of her pink drink. “If you’d just let me -”

“I don’t want to be set up!” Hermione cut Ginny off. She was tired of having this conversation that she couldn’t seem to escape. It felt like all the women in her life were scrambling to pair her off and it was exhausting.

“Look, you haven’t really dated anyone in years, if you could even call that pathetic two week attempt you and my brother made dating.”

“I’ve been busy,” Hermione argued as she stirred her firewhiskey, the ice jostling around in the half-drunk glass. “My work is important to me. I’m just too busy,” she repeated, a refrain she typically used to fend off this sort of ambush.

“Too busy to get laid?” the other witch asked, raising her cosmo to her glossy lips and cocking a red eyebrow at Hermione.

“Ginny!” Hermione exclaimed, looking around to make sure no one overheard them. 

“Hermione!” Ginny mocked back. “You need a release, trust me. You’re working yourself to death and it isn’t healthy. I’m not telling you to get married or anything. Just find a handsome man and blow off some steam. It doesn’t have to be someone from school, it could be someone like...” Ginny trailed off as she looked around the bar. She pointed conspicuously at the chiseled ginger mixing drinks behind the bar. “That one would do nicely.” Hermione reached over and snatched Ginny’s hand before she could catch his attention. 

“I don’t need you to set me up with some stranger either. Besides, I thought part of your scheme for tonight’s event was to push me onto Terry Boot. Wouldn’t a success here ruin your plans for the rest of the evening?”

“Terry can be a backup if you don’t hit it off with Mr. Barkeep,” the witch said with a shrug. “Why don’t you let me set you up with anyone? The healer for the team is ripped,” Ginny whined. “Those muscles! Just imagine what he’s like in the bedroom! I bet he could lift you into all sorts of positions.”

“You’re married!” Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. She realized she should have shut down the inebriated ginger across from her immediately when she brought up Hermione’s love life; drunk Ginny was both uninhibited and impossible to get off the topic of sex and relationships. 

“A married witch can still appreciate a fit bloke!” Hermione drained her drink as Ginny spoke, thankful that Ginny did not bring up Harry’s skills in the bedroom, again. 

“I’ve seen him. He’s not that fit,” Hermione dismissed, lying about her thoughts on the attractive brunette who treated injured Holyhead Harpies. 

“He  _ is _ fit!” Ginny protested, shaking her head at Hermione. 

“Who’s fit?” A deep voice interrupted their conversation. Both witches looked up. 

“Draco Malfoy?” Ginny asked, straining to see the looming figure in the dim lights of the Beetle Club. Hermione started, surprised to see him at their usual happy hour spot. She only ever saw him at work, where they crossed paths occasionally in the Ministry lobby, never exchanging more than a polite greeting. 

“Yes, I suppose I am rather fit,” the man smirked, throwing Ginny a wink. “Though I prefer devilishly handsome or unbearably good looking, for future reference.”

“No, not you!” Hermione exclaimed, horrified that Draco Malfoy, of all people, heard their private conversation. “The healer for Ginny’s team. What are you doing here?”

“I’m in the middle of a bit of a drinking game with my friends,” he nodded behind him. Ginny and Hermione looked around his broad frame to see Blaise Zabini, Theo Nott, and Pansy Parkinson sitting in a booth at the back of the bar. Zabini raised his glass, Nott looked sheepish, and Parkinson sneered at them. The girls exchanged a look before staring back up at Draco. 

“I lost this round. I’m meant to approach the prettiest girl in the bar,” Draco said, his gaze landing on Hermione. “To buy her a drink.”

“She’s taken,” Hermione answered automatically, gesturing to Ginny. “But you know that. So what game are you really playing at?” 

“Come on, Granger. You know I’ve never been one for games,” Draco drawled, eyes still locked on her and lips drawn in a playful smile. “I’ve always been more direct. I was obviously talking about you.”

“Me?” Hermione repeated, incredulous. 

“Are you hard of hearing? Or has wasting your talents protecting house elves and centaurs fried your brain?”

“Charming as always, Malfoy,” Hermione huffed.

“Thank you ever so,” Draco said with a smirk. “Can I buy you that drink now or will you continue to be difficult?”

“Is that part of the game too?” Hermione pushed the empty glass in front of her further away, wishing she had something to do with her hands. 

“Difficult it is,” he sighed, eyeing her with reserved amusement. 

“You, what? Chat me up and buy me a drink to make fun of me to your friends? Seems like something you’d be interested in.”

“For someone so famously brilliant, you are astoundingly dense sometimes.” His tone was finally familiar, short and snobbish. Hermione felt irritation bubble up in her chest, memories of a young Draco Malfoy calling her names flashed through her mind. 

“For someone so famously aristocratic, you are astoundingly rude all the time,” she snapped back, crossing her arms over her chest. Draco’s smug look dropped off his face, indifference falling in its place. 

“She’ll take the drink,” Ginny piped up, reminding them of her presence. 

“No, no  _ she _ won’t,” she hissed, shooting Ginny a withering glare. “We need to go anyway, we’re meeting people.” Hermione stood, nearly knocking over the table in her urgency to escape. “Goodbye, Malfoy.”

“I’ll be here the rest of the night if you need me, Granger,” he called as he walked back to his table.

“I doubt I’ll ever need you for anything,” she tossed over her shoulder as she walked away. “Not a word, Ginny. Do you understand?” Hermione hissed as her friend joined her outside. She was met with a Chesire cat kind of smile, but also, thankfully, silence. As they walked to the floo at the Leaky Cauldron, both too tipsy to safely apparate to Hogsmeade, Hermione played the interaction over in her head. She couldn’t understand why he’d pretended to flirt with her, especially since they barely acknowledged each other. In fact, the last time she could recall having a conversation that long was when he’d apologized to her, just before she testified at his trial years ago. He was so different now from the sullen, broken boy he was when they last spoke. Malfoy seemed much more like he had when they were kids; arrogant and unburdened. 

When they arrived at the Three Broomsticks, a cheer went up from the back. Nearly the whole of Gryffindor House from their time at school was there to celebrate Dean and Seamus’ engagement. 

“Hello to my two favorite witches,” a visibly drunk Harry greeted, a silly smile on his face. He draped each of his arms over the women and pulled them in for a double hug.

“Don’t let Mum hear you say that,” Ginny teased as he squeezed them both into his sides. “She’ll be heartbroken.”

“Molly has a solid third place in my heart,” he said with a small hiccup at the end. “How was the witch-only happy hour?” Harry asked as he pressed a kiss to Ginny’s cheek, his arm falling from Hermione’s shoulder. 

“Interesting,” Ginny replied with a coy smile. “I’ll tell you later.” Hermione shot her a glare. “I’m sure you have updates on the drinking games it looks like you and my brother have been playing. But first, we have a plan to set in motion,” Ginny said, scanning the room. Her eyes landed on someone and her face dropped, pulling Harry and Hermione’s attention there too. Terry was making out with Parvati Patil in the corner of the bar and Ginny’s plan had already unraveled. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that she would avoid the horrors of an awkward setup for the evening. 

When she turned back, Harry was whispering to a giggling Ginny and drawing patterns onto her arm. From experience, that was a warning to escape before the PDA got out of control. Spotting Ron behind them, Hermione quickly walked across the bar. He gladly pulled her into the group he stood with, all swapping stories about the engaged couple. After a few minutes, Hermione noticed his arm had crept around Susan Bones’ waist. She caught Ginny’s eyes across the room and tilted her head towards Ron; Ginny wiggled her eyebrows mischievously in response. 

Hermione spent the next two hours bouncing between couples, feeling like a perpetual third wheel. No matter what group she dropped into, there were couples everywhere, all asking if she was seeing anyone. Three firewhiskeys later and she found herself swatting away Cormac McLaggen, who she wasn’t sure was even invited to the party. He’d caged her against the bar, his arms blocking her in. 

“Come on, beautiful,” he whispered too loudly into her ear, his sour beetle bourbon breath hitting her nose. Hermione cringed at the invasiveness of it. “Let’s get out of here.”

“No, thank you,” Hermione replied with as polite of a tone as she could muster. When he didn’t move, she wandlessly pushed him back and stormed out of the bar, leaving the couples and the creeps behind. 

All her friends, happy and together. Most of her life, Hermione felt like an outsider. First as an unknowing witch among Muggle children, then as an annoying know-it-all to many of her Hogwarts classmates. She thought she had left those lingering feelings of loneliness behind when she started her career at the Ministry. She threw herself into her work fully and her colleagues appreciated her effort. After finally feeling like she’d found her place, she turned around to find her entire friendship network had coupled up seemingly overnight. Hermione had never felt so out of place in a lifetime of being out of place. 

Hermione stepped through the floo to the Leaky Cauldron, fully intent on putting on her fuzzy pajamas and going to sleep after picking up a quick late-night carton of ice cream first. But her feet had other ideas, taking the path to the Beetle Club. Fueled by liquid courage, she didn’t fight them. It was raining at Diagon Alley, but Hermione didn’t care, letting the raindrops douse her curls and run down her arms. She walked back into the bar, her soaked dress clinging to the curves of her body. Hermione scanned the room, finally spotting that stark platinum hair, almost glowing in the dark of the club. Draco stood over the table, depositing drinks in front of his friends. 

“You!” Her voice came out louder than she intended as she walked over. The four occupants of the table looked up at her startled, before Pansy scowled and the three boys smirked in unison. “You,” she repeated, softer now, pointing up at Draco as she stood across from him. The tall wizard cocked an eyebrow as he looked down at her, his eyes trailing slowly down her body. 

“Yes, Granger? Is there something you wa-” was all he managed before she yanked him down and her lips crashed into his. Hermione had underestimated his distance, slamming into him with far more force than she anticipated. 

“Still interested?” she breathed against his chest, her gaze slowly drifting up to his face. He looked down at her, his iron eyes dark and hungry. 

“Absolutely,” he said without hesitation, his voice came out deep and hoarse. She picked up his glass from the table and knocked it back before walking away. She purposefully avoided glancing back to see whatever looks he was exchanging with his friends. 

“Are you planning to share with me where we’re going? Or am I meant to guess?” Draco asked, just behind her now.

“I live in a flat a block up,” she said as she opened the door and stepped into the rain. 

“Really, Granger? Are you a witch or not?” He scoffed as he pulled out his wand and transfigured his jacket into an umbrella. He smirked as he shielded them from the downpour, the pair huddled close beneath the makeshift umbrella. 

“Thanks,” she whispered, feeling foolish. 

“I normally wouldn’t have, but your dress is nearly see-through.” Hermione rolled her eyes, hoping he couldn’t see her blush of mortification in the dim light of the street lamps. She pulled out her wand and performed a drying spell just as they arrived at her building. 

“Do you want a drink?” Hermione asked, the weight of her impulsivity hitting her as he stepped through the threshold. She tried to ignore her nerves as she moved towards the cabinet where she stored her only bottle of liquor. Hermione wasn’t usually the one entertaining among her friends. 

“Sure,” Draco replied absently as he looked around the small flat. Hermione was thankful that she’d cleaned up a bit that morning; she had a habit of leaving teacups around the flat when distracted. She poured a glass of firewhiskey as he moved over to examine the titles in her bookshelf. “I expected you to have more books.”

“It’s charmed,” Hermione said as she handed him the drink. “It holds triple what you’re seeing. These are just the ones I read the most.” Draco pursed his lips in appreciation before turning back to her. 

“Are you going to have a drink?” he asked as he looked at her empty hands.

“No, no I don’t think so,” Hermione said, her growing anxiety seeping into her words. She worked her lower lip, wondering if she should ask him to leave. 

“What’s wrong, Granger?” Malfoy asked. Hermione crossed back to the kitchen as she worked out what to do. After a moment of quiet, she sighed. 

“One night stands aren’t really my thing,” she said, hugging herself. She wished she had just come home to her comfy pajamas instead of bringing this mortification on herself. 

“But you think they’re mine?” He quirked a pale eyebrow at her. 

No,” she started, surprised by his response. “Well, maybe, I’m not sure. I don’t know you that well. It’s just that now I’m standing here in front of Witch Weekly’s most eligible bachelor and wondering if this is what I should be doing.”

“Well if you don’t want to,” Draco said as he placed his glass down on her coffee table, making a point to use a coaster. She realized she’d never seen anyone use a coaster in her apartment without her prompting them to before. 

“No, I never said I didn’t want to.” Hermione took a deep breath, trying to steady her breathing and sort her thoughts. “It’s just strange. We haven’t spoken in years except for passing pleasantries at charity events. And when we did speak in school…” she trailed off. “I’m just surprised that you’re interested.”

“I told you, I don’t play games, Granger,” Draco said. “Do you require proof of my interest?” he asked quietly before crossing the room in three steps. Standing in front of her, he let his eyes slink down her body and up again, a smugness settling on his face as he took her in. Attraction pooled in her core.

“Malfoy.” It came out in a breathy whisper unlike any noise she’d made before. 

“Just appreciating the view,” he leaned closer and whispered in a gravelly voice, prompting a shiver down her spine. Draco’s eyes were trained on her lips. His finger slowly pushed a stray curl out of her face; the contact of his finger dragging across her cheekbone made her shiver. He stared at her, the moments stretching on. Hermione couldn’t take it anymore and tilted her head up to his. Their lips crashed together for the second time that night. Thankfully this time, they were both expecting it. 

Draco wrapped his arms around her waist, flushing her to his body as he kissed her greedily. The room around her was scalding and Hermione’s heart was pounding. His fingers tangled in her curls and he pulled her head back just slightly to shower kisses along her throat. He kissed her pulse point; brushing his lips along the surrounding skin, eliciting breathy moans as Hermione’s fingers twisting into his platinum hair, her eyes squeezed shut.

Draco kissed his way back to her lips and walked her towards the couch. As their shins hit the furniture, he grabbed Hermione by the hips and pulled her onto his lap. She straddled him, deepening the kiss and grinding into him. He let a groan escape from the back of his throat, the guttural tones vibrating though her as his hard length pressed into her inner thigh. Breaking away, she undid the buttons of Draco’s shirt, pulling it down his shoulders enthusiastically. Hermione traced the silver scars that crossed his chest with curiosity. 

“A souvenir from your friend.” His gray eyes followed her fingers before they tipped back to meet hers. She frowned, remembering that day. 

“He -” She wanted to explain and apologize, even if that meant picking at scars and opening old wounds. 

“Don’t,” he said, grabbing her wrist. “Not now.” She leaned forward, pressing gentle kisses across the scars on his chest. He slowly released her wrist as her tracing moved lower. When Hermione’s lips met his waistband, she unbuttoned his trousers. Draco stopped her from taking them off with a gentle hand. Instead, he pulled at her shirt impatiently, ripping it over her head. He reached a hand around to unsnap her bra as well. 

“Do you need help?” Hermione asked, holding back a laugh. She had expected him to have a lot of experience taking off witches’ underwear. “ _ Perhaps he was telling the truth about one night stands _ ,” she thought as his other hand reached around to fiddle with the snap.

“No, I just...” he trailed off, his face set in determination. “I’ve got it.” A few moments later he successfully unhooked her bra and pulled back, taking in the view of her naked chest as though he were trying to commit it to memory. He grabbed her chin and kissed her deeply before moving to the base of her neck, sucking and nipping there. 

“Fuck, I want you,” he muttered horsely into the hollow of her throat. 

“I want you too,” she whispered back, surprising herself at just how much she meant it. 

Draco ran his hands up from her waist and palmed her breasts. He pinched her nipples gently, which pebbled at his touch. As he peppered kisses down her neck and across her chest, the room became an inferno. 

“You have the most perfect tits, Granger,” he murmured against her bare skin. “Just - just the best I’ve ever seen.” He pulled back to appraise them for a moment and Hermione felt a flush crawl up her neck. 

He clamped his mouth over one of her nipples and sucked. The move earned him a moan, breathy and raw. Draco grinned at the noise and moved to the other side, teasing with gentle kisses before sucking there too. 

Hermione grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him up toward her. Their lips met again and without letting go, Draco flipped her onto the couch. He climbed on top of her, his body pressing heavy on her, as his fingers snaked down her sides and lingered at her black cotton knickers. She briefly wished she’d worn anything else, anything that didn’t seem so practical. He broke off and looked at her, his cool eyes on fire. Realizing he was waiting for permission, Hermione grabbed his arm and eased his hand into her knickers. 

“So wet already,” Draco groaned, his fingers grazing her center. “Does that feel good?” he whispered against her neck as he found her clit, circling it slowly. She shuddered, unconsciously arching her hips into his hand. 

“Yes,” she sighed, actively trying to keep herself from babbling at his touch. “So good.” His gray eyes were so dark they were practically charcoal. As his fingers worked, he kissed down her stomach slowly, sending shivers down her spine. Draco sank down to his knees, removing his hand when he hit the ground. While Hermione mourned the contact, she quickly forgot any disappointment as he bunched her skirt up and grasped her knees, gently easing them apart. Giving her a devious smirk, he wandlessly vanished her practical knickers. 

Before she could protest the treatment of her undergarments, the feeling of his mouth on her wet heat turned the words on her lips to ash. She looked down at the platinum head bobbing between her legs, biting her lip to stifle a moan. 

“Let go,” Draco said, voice muffled between her thighs. “Just let go. I want to hear you, Hermione.”

The sound of her given name on his lips sent a new wave of warm through her and she slowly relaxed, melting into the couch and letting out the torrent of sounds she’d been trying to hold in. Her moans grew louder and the air in the room became thinner as his tongue dipped and swirled. As the ripples of pleasure became more extreme, Hermione could hear herself panting, but was too caught up in the movements of his tongue and fingers to care. Slowly the wave built within her and, when it felt like it couldn’t grow any more, it crashed into a shattering climax. As her moans susided, he moved to her thighs, placing gentle kisses as her breathing finally evened. 

“I want you inside of me.” The statement tumbled out of her mouth without hesitation. It wasn’t a desire, but a need. Draco crawled back up her body, leaving soft kisses as he went. When he finally captured her lips again, she could taste herself on his tongue. “Bed?” Hermione asked against his lips, reluctant to pull away. He grunted in agreement, lifting her up and carrying her to the ajar bedroom door. After he set her down gently on the crisply made bed, he ripped off his remaining clothes, standing naked before her. Hermione licked her lips as she took in his toned form, her gaze slowly drifting down from his chest to his abs to his dick. Draco caught her eye and smiled before swooping down to meet her lips again and joining her on the bed. 

“Draco, I want you now,” she whispered as they broke apart, his first name both foreign and sweet in her mouth, like a dessert from somewhere she’d never been. He froze and looked down at himself, and she realized he was quietly muttering the contraception spell. “Oh, I was going to do that,” she said, surprised he even thought of it. Most of the wizards she had been intimate with had assumed it was her responsibility. 

He smirked at her. “Always the swot,” he chuckled. The name didn’t bother her now, coming from his swollen lips. “Go on then, no harm in doubling up.” Hermione quickly murmured the spell over herself. As soon as she finished, he kissed her again and pushed her knees away from each other. Draco slowly lined them up before plunging into her, stealing a gasp as she took him in. 

“Fuck, Granger, you feel amazing,” he groaned as he fully entered her. He started to rock into her slowly. “Does this feel good?” His tone was tentative, matching his gentle movements. 

Unable to form coherent sentences, Hermione nodded hastily and murmured, “Yes.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he said as he stared into her eyes and his pace became more fervent. Hermione felt truly naked for the first time that night with his gaze focused so intently on her. Driving his hips into her, the sound of flesh meeting flesh was the only noise in the room. As they found their rhythm, they both began to breath heavily. “You feel so...fucking...good.” He sounded like he couldn’t speak and move at the same time.

“Wanted...this...for...so...long,” Draco grunted as he thrust into her. She looked up at him in surprise, but he didn’t seem to realize what he said. Instead, his usually perfect blond hair was wild and his brow was furrowed as he watched her body reacting to his. Before she could analyze his words, his thumb swiped over her clit. The effect was dizzying; Hermione whimpered, grabbing his biceps like he was the only steady thing in the room. 

“I’m close,” he forced out, his body moving frantically now. “Fuck I’m close.” Hermione let out a deep moan as he plunged into her, the coil in her core winding tighter. “I want to see you cum again, Hermione.” His words were the thing that sent her over edge; she let go and Draco followed her. 

He rolled off of her and they both stared at the ceiling, panting. Hermione’s mind began to clear and she turned his words over in her head: “ _ Wanted this for so long _ .”

“So no game, then,” she said quietly, shifting over to look at him. 

“Merlin, Granger!” Draco let loose a bark of humorless laughter. “After all that and your big brain still thinks I’m not interested? No game.” He turned over so they were staring at each other, noses nearly touching. “Not with you,” he added, quietly. They smiled cautiously at each other before he looked at the door.

“Would you...like to stay tonight?” Hermione asked, cursing herself both for how small her voice sounded and how badly she wanted him to sleep over. 

“Alright,” Draco agreed, cutting off her train of thought and wrapping an arm around her. He pulled her against his chest and Hermione fell asleep to his deep breathing and the smug thought of finally getting Ginny off her back. 


End file.
